Unspoken Rule
by Jacinda
Summary: A secure scene can turn into an dangerous place in a matter of seconds. NS undertones and friendship. Minor season finale spoilers.


A/N: SEASON FINALE SPOILERS (very minor ones). Hope you all enjoy! -Jac

"I'm sorry," he said as he tried to examine the hole in my hand. I was desperately clutching my right hand in my left hand trying to stem some of the bright red blood streaming out from between my fingers. I wouldn't let him touch the wound. I pulled away each time he reached out to me.

I was nauseated and slightly light headed. Judging from the pool of red that gathered at my feet, I was pretty lucky to be still standing and remotely in control of my consciousness. I don't know why I didn't start crying. My hand hurt something awful, but I couldn't think coherently enough to cry. The vertigo and ringing in my ears began to get the better of me. I stumbled backward a few steps before ungracefully lowering myself to the ground.

"Sara, they're almost here," Nick whispered as the sound of sirens began to faintly materialize in the distance. I think I might have nodded.

Nick wrapped his t-shirt around my hands. It was a black t-shirt, so I lost the ability to judge exactly how much I was actually bleeding. He held his hands tightly around mine. Nick kept talking to me, but the ringing in my ears was drowning him out. The periphery of my vision slowly faded to black. I guess that meant I probably lost more blood than I had calculated via the small puddle on the ground and the blood that had seeped into my pants and shirt.

"Stay awake for me," Nick said as he shook me gently. I could feel my body beginning to beg me for sleep or unconsciousness.

* * *

The scene wasn't remarkable. Dead bodies in the desert were never remarkable, especially when the body was nothing more than extremely dried out bones. Vega pointed us in the right direction. Nick and I took pictures and gathered the bones and surrounding sand into paper bags. There wasn't enough tissue to even justify calling David to come take a look at the body. The vultures and various desert creatures had effectively picked all the bones clean.

Vega asked us if we would be okay before he left. It was after midnight. We were in a remote area of the desert. There was absolutely no reason to assume that we wouldn't be okay. It was stupid for us to assume. Assuming got Holly killed, got Catherine assaulted, and got Nick shoved in a coffin.

The sound of the gunshot was deafening against the silence of the desert at night. I didn't have any idea where the hell the shot came from and who would be shooting at us. All I could do was throw myself to the ground. I felt several of the shots come close to my body. I could feel the displacement of the otherwise peaceful air and the heat of the speeding metal.

I counted the shots and I tried to lay as still as possible. There were seven total. Six were embedded in the desert sand. One of the shots went through my hand before lodging itself in the earth.

It seemed like hours before the world was again silent as it should be. I hear Nick scramble over to me. I couldn't lift myself off the cool sand.

"Sara, are you okay?" Nick asked frantically as he pulled his gun out of its holster. I sat up slowly. My wounds were barely visible in perimeter of the light cast by the headlights of the Denali. I instinctively drew my hand into my abdomen. I could feel the warm, stickiness of the blood permeate my light blue t-shirt.

"Sara, are you okay?" Nick asked again as he brushed some of the sand off the side of my cheek. I think I shook my head because he immediately tried to examine my hand. He took his shirt off despite the frigid nighttime air. I heard him call for back up and medics.

Nick pulled me to my feet and guided me back to the Denali. I opened my mouth to protest about leaving the evidence behind, but I knew Nick would tell me that it didn't really matter right now. I leaned against the Denali as Nick tried to help me stem the bleeding.

"Hey, it's okay. You're going to be okay, Sara," Nick said, but I could hear the doubt in his voice as I stumbled backward and half lowered and half fell the dirt road. The desert was silent. There was very little that we could do about my hand or our safety right now.

Nick wrapped his hands tighter around mine. I could feel him shaking. He was probably freezing without the long-sleeved black shirt that was wrapped around my hands. He was probably thinking about all the bad things that had happened to him at scenes. Nick might even have breathed a sigh of relief that for once it wasn't him. If he did, I couldn't tell because he didn't seem too eager to talk. He kept telling me that I would be okay. The words could very well be empty. Without function in my hand, I'd been confined to a desk job, if that.

"Sar, stay awake for me," Nick said as he gently lowered me to the ground.

"I bought a kitten two weeks ago. Make sure Manny is taken care of. Make sure someone waters my plants. I have some Chinese food in my refrigerator that needs to be thrown out," I rambled.

"You're going to be okay," Nick said again.

"I'm not lucky like you are," I replied without thinking. My eyes were growing heavy. Each time I closed my eyes, I felt like I might fall off the earth. There was a bitter, copper taste in the back of my throat.

"You're going to be okay," Nick said again. His words were a little more forceful the second time. I didn't reply because there was a wave of dread sweeping across my body. People weren't supposed to die of hand wounds. I guess people only died if they were in the middle of the desert without any emergency services within tens of miles.

"Just make sure Manny is taken care of," I replied as I stopped fighting the tired cries of my body.

* * *

"You're awake," Grissom said as I struggled to focus on at least one object in the room. I was looking at the world through the worst beer goggles that I had ever worn.

"You're okay. After fourteen hours of hand surgery, you're okay," Grissom said again. I don't think I comprehended exactly what he was saying. I was half expecting Grissom to be Saint Peter; after all, Grissom was relatively close to being without sin.

"Hand?" I croaked weakly.

"Rehab and physical therapy for a few months. Your doctor said that you should be as good as new in about a year," Grissom replied.

"Year?" I asked.

"A year," Grissom replied.

"Nick?" I asked. I struggled to find the words to put together an entire understandable sentence.

"He's okay. He left a little while ago to make sure that your cat had something to eat. You scared him," Grissom admonished me gently. There was this unspoken rule about trying desperately to keep Nick out a danger. We all knew that he had become extremely fragile despite the tough exterior he put on to please us.

"I'm sorry, Griss," I said weakly.

"About what?" Grissom asked. He sounded shocked.

"I should have made Nick leave the scene so he wasn't in anymore danger. It's only been sixth months since he was buried," I rambled.

"Sara, you didn't know what was going to happen. I don't think Nick would have left. I don't think he could have let you slowly bleed to death in the desert. He was pissed off that the paramedics wouldn't let him ride in the ambulance with you," Grissom replied, "He asks to work with you because you make him feel safe. Nick credits you with saving his life."

"I'm hungry," I replied. My stomach hurt from being empty.

"Not until you wake up enough for you not to choke," Grissom said as he pulled my hand away from the IV tubing that I subconsciously played with.

* * *

"How are you feeling?" Nick said as he tapped on my door. I was watching CourtTV, so I was entranced. Nick might have been at the door since the lat commercial break for all I knew.

"Hungry," I replied. I found myself enjoying the liberty of throwing around one word answers without anyone pestering me about talking.

"What do you want to eat?" Nick asked as he finally walked into my room.

"Can't have anything," I grumbled.

"You might want to start communicating more effectively if you want me to help you," Nick teased.

"I can't have anything until the doctor sees me," I replied, "I would just about kill for ice cream."

"I thought you were vegan?" Nick asked.

"I see the value of cheese and ice cream every once in awhile," I replied.

"What you watching?" Nick asked.

"A documentary on bullet wounds. It's primarily about entry and exit patterns," I replied.

"Sara, do you have to be so morbid? I think you have more than enough experience with gun shot wounds," Nick replied, "I have a present for you." He handed me a baggy containing the bullet that went through my hand.

"Bobby said that it was too damaged to be useful for comparison," Nick said.

"This is more morbid than the documentary. Next time, Cinnabon or Starbucks will do just fine," I said with a laugh.

"I was going to try to smuggle Manny in, but he's a little elusive. I found him cuddled up behind your toilet yesterday," Nick replied.

"He's a little weird, but he makes for a good roommate," I replied with a yawn.

"I'm glad you're okay," Nick said. He voice cracked ever so slightly.

"Thanks for taking care of me. I owe you one," I replied.

"I think I still owe you a million more," Nick said as he squeezed my 'good' hand, "I'll go get Cinnabon and Starbucks."

"You don't have to," I replied.

"I still have your wallet from that night. Believe me . . . I'm not going to put myself out," Nick teased as he stood up, "I'll be back in a little bit, partner."

"Hey, Cowboy . . . I like the Cinnabon with pecans on top," I said as he began to walk out the door.

I found myself looking forward to his return. I found myself wondering if I was a little bit luckier than I originally estimated.

FIN


End file.
